Then they had raced her conservatively in three races where the competition had not been tough, and she had won all of them. This was to be her first major race on a cold and very windy day, which Henry thought to her liking.

Alec kept stroking the filly’s neck, telling her to settle down, that the time for play was over. She’d acted the same way on the track that morning when he had loosened her up. It was a good sign to Alec, for a horse had to enjoy life, the same as a person. If a horse wasn’t happy, he wouldn’t run for you. So maybe Henry was right. Maybe Pam’s Song would be Aqueduct’s horse of the winter. At any rate, Henry wasn’t going to send her south for the winter or, for that matter, even out of New York City.

Alec looked at the seven other horses in the paddock walking ring. Six of them were the very best of those who had stayed north during the winter, and the remaining one had come up from Florida just for this race. Her name was Delta Belle and she was the favorite, carrying the heaviest weight in the field at 118 pounds. She had been one of the top two-year-olds racing last year and had won her first three races at Gulfstream Park in Florida. Delta Belle was being ridden by her regular jockey, Eduardo Gomez, who didn’t look too happy with the day’s weather after having spent several months in the sunny southland.

Henry said, “You got two choices, Alec. If she breaks sharp, go on with her. If she doesn’t, just let her settle down and get her clear.”

Alec met Henry’s gaze, eyes that still held the fire and gusto of youth despite the mass of wrinkles that crisscrossed the old man’s face. Henry looked like what he was, one of the nicest and best-liked trainers ever to saddle a horse. To others he appeared calm, patient and kind. But Alec knew otherwise. Henry was hypersensitive, a bundle of nervous energy and a perfectionist. Nothing was ever done quite the way he wanted, the way only he could do it. And Henry did everything but ride. That morning he had gone nonstop despite the cold, applying bandages, walking the filly back from the track, even taking her away from Alec to cool her out.

There was no changing Henry, Alec knew, but the old professional, who was his closest friend, could make mistakes the same as the rest of them.

Henry left them at the track and Alec rode Pam’s Song in her eighth position to the post. He knew he had a real nice horse under him and Henry had done a good job training her—but he didn’t have Henry’s complete confidence that she was ready for the kind of competition she faced today. He hoped he was wrong. It would be easier to get along with Henry if Pam’s Song kept the old man’s adrenaline flowing during the winter months.

The filly shifted quickly beneath him and he had trouble keeping his seat as she slid in the snow. She was too eager, as always. Just as she was used to doing things her own way; that was why Alec found it hard to rate her speed during a race. She had a mind of her own. Alec knew that was why he had named her Pam’s Song, for she was a lot like his beloved Pam.

Don’t think of Pam now, he reminded himself, not now.

Alec had been successful recently in getting the filly to race the way he wanted—sometimes anyway. He didn’t know what she’d be like today. With her blazing speed, there was no doubt she’d be first out of the gate and she’d fight him if he tried to take her back.

His fingers were cold and stiff and painful as he knotted the reins.